With a sigh, Alessa trudged after him to the outdoor training yard around the side of the building. Dante started doing pull-ups, and she strolled closer for a better view.
“Can I help you?” Dante asked.
“I’m sure you could.”
With a huff, he dropped to the ground for push-ups.
“Ever since you called yourself stale bread, I’ve had a wicked craving.”
He paused, shook his head, then pushed back up.
“I adore bread. Especially baguettes. Long, thick, hot and slathered with—”
He hit the ground, shaking with laughter. “Enough. Mercy. You’re a champion of lewd baking metaphors.”
“I haven’t even begun. I grew up in a bakery, you know. Should I detail my obsession with pastries?”
He got to his feet and dusted his palms. “I am not a pastry.”
“Sure you are. One of those mystery pies that could be savory, but actually has a sweet filling under all those layers of crispy dough.”
He squinted at her. “Are you calling me doughy?”
“You started it.”
Someone coughed discreetly. A servant hovering nearby. “Excuse me, miss. Interviews are over and the Fontes are waiting for you.”
* * *
Alessa wasn’t sure what she expected when she entered the library, but she didn’t expect to find Nina sobbing and clinging to Josef, Saida with her head in her hands, Kamaria shouting at everyone to shut up, and Kaleb chugging the contents of a glass decanter that had been half full of vodka the last time Alessa checked.
“Hey!” Dante shouted. When they kept at it, he kicked the door shut with a loud bang that cut through the noise.
“What is going on?” Alessa said.
Everyone began yelling at once. Nina’s wails drowned out whatever Josef was trying to say in his calm, precise way, and Kaleb seemed to be yelling nonsense sounds from pure annoyance while Saida berated him for being immature at a “time like this.”
“Will you shut up already?” Kamaria hollered. “For Dea’s sake. Bunch of headless chickens.”
Alessa took advantage of the decreased volume to ask again.
Kamaria held up a hand to stop anyone from interrupting. “Everyone volunteered. Including me, obviously the best choice.” Alessa’s surge of relief didn’t last long. “But the esteemed old farts of the Consiglio aren’t too thrilled about my brother’s recent decisions—shut up, Kaleb!—so, despite the fact that I am obviously the best choice”—she shouted the last part in Kaleb’s direction—“they unanimously recommended Josef. So Kaleb’s sulking about his wounded pride, Saida’s convinced you need a more supportive Fonte, Nina’s flipping out about Josef being picked, and like I said, I’m obviously the correct choice no matter what a bunch of stuffy old people think, so they all need to cut it out already!”
Alessa blinked once. Twice.
Kamaria crossed her arms. “But. Obviously, the final decision is yours, and when you pick me, I’ll fight the Consiglio myself if they don’t put their stamp on it. So. Choose.”
Of all the scenarios she’d mentally prepared for, Alessa hadn’t made it this far into the realm of the impossible.
Kamaria wasn’t wrong about who she’d prefer, but she’d made a promise. While she hadn’t expected more than one Fonte to vie for the position, the fact remained: she’d promised she wouldn’t choose. They’d done their part by volunteering, and the Consiglio had done theirs. The only way to keep her word was to accept the official verdict.
“I’m sorry, Nina,” Alessa said. “But I have to accept the—”
“No! You can’t have him!” Nina’s gift exploded with her rage, and the nearest window shattered.
The world erupted into a deadly rainbow of flying glass.
Dante shielded Alessa, but her ears rang in the silence that followed.
Still, she couldn’t mistake what Nina said next.
“I should have dropped a hundred statues on you.”
Alessa dug her fingernails into her palms, but a glass-fronted cabinet bowed and wavered like a bubble about to pop, and another wave of glass burst across the room.
“Stop it, Nina!” Josef shouted. “What have you done?”
Nina’s anger dissolved into pitiful sobs.
Kamaria lay curled on the floor, clutching her leg as blood spread across her buff-colored pants.
Dante took Alessa’s chin, turning her face to him. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine,” she said, ducking away. “Kaleb, how bad is it?”